


Helios

by Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bloodplay, Breathplay, Choking, F/M, Rimming, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile/pseuds/Amber_Eyes_and_One_Sad_Smile





	Helios

You're kneeling on the bed with your head on a pillow, left hand clutching a bottle of dark rum on the brink of spilling onto the bedsheets and right hand fisted into those very same bedsheets as a long tongue probed your most intimate areas and a green, almost olive in the dim light, long nailed hand grabbing and kneading your plump arse cheeks. You groaned in the wicked filthiness of it all and heard a long low chuckle from the greasy haired man behind you reverberate against your soaking lower lips.

You'd met Murdoc Niccals at a greasy dive in the dark parts of town, where you were toying with a gin and orange and biting the straw out of boredom as he sidled over and sat on the stained bar stool beside you, his cracked and filthy looking nails tapping what appeared to be a straight whisky. You wrinkled your nose at the smell both from him and the spirit. Letting the straw fall out of your mouth, you opened your bag and began rolling a cigarette to occupy your hands.   
"Ere, love. Mind if I lend one of those?" You heard the rattling British accent and looked up, stunned a little. You were aware he was the founder of Gorillaz and had heard him speak in interviews, but obviously never so close up before. You shrug, popping the rolled cigarette into your mouth and passing him your bag. "Sure, no problem."   
Taking a sip of your beverage, you side eyed the bass player critically. Black polo neck, Cuban heels and sinfully tight dark grey jeans, fastened by a belt with an embossed skull on it. He was rather sinewy and thin, yet looked strong from the muscles in his arms. The St Peter's cross hanging from the chain glittered in the dimly lit light. You were so engrossed in the spectacle that you didn't notice his jaw clench and his eyes look up at you as he passed your bag back. "Like something you see, love?" The glint of pointed teeth wasn't a surprise as he grinned and stood up, extending his hand to you as he knocked the rest of his whisky back.   
"Coming outside for a smoke?"

Outside the dive, the night was dark and fog rolled across the parking spaces, most of them empty. He produced a silver Zippo, sparking it and illuminating the darkness for you both to light your cigarettes. Clouds of smoke drifted up into the air. You bit your lip, thinking of something to say.   
"You're Murdoc Niccals, right?" He laughed, running his tongue over his sharpened teeth and taking a drag of his cigarette.   
"That I am, love, the frontman of the greatest band in the world! You might want to remember that name for future reference, as I'm sure you'll be yelling it before too long."  
The hand holding your cigarette wavered as you coughed, surprised at the dirty implications behind his words. "What makes you think I'll be doing that?"  
"Trust me, all the girls I've taken home so far haven't been able to stay quiet, not once they've seen the size of my tongue and, well..." You smiled. "Your bass?"  
He grinned. "I call it El Diablo as well."


End file.
